The Next Generation
by FutureNovelist887
Summary: Originally written by DiAngeloGraceJackson321, this story documents the lives of Alex, Olivia, Thomas, Hunter and Grace, the children of Zirk, Zember, Zephanie and Zena. Stuck on a periling chase from Agatha, the evil sorceress, the five teens must learn to do what their parents didn't: destroy Agatha once and for all. Told with varying POVs.
1. Happy Almost Birthday Alex

"Alex!"

My snore cut short as I jumped, my whole body threatening to explode in sudden electricity. I groaned when I realized it was Mom and flung my face back down into the pillow.

"Wha'?" I called back.

"Time to get up!"

"Why?" I nearly shrieked. "It's Saturday!"

"Because I said so, that's why."

I hate it when she does that.

I rolled off the bed onto my white-carpet floor and stumbled around, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I stretched and yawned, snatching my two closest clothing items - one of Dad's old Camp Half Blood T's and a pair of gym shorts my best friend, Grace, gave me for Christmas. I ran a comb through my shaggy hair and, nodding approvingly with the throw together get up, I grabbed my Vans and headed down stairs.

The smell of pancakes (the only thing my mother could cook besides Hamburger Helper - and she usually screwed that up, too) wafted through the air. My mouth watered obediently, and I sat down at the bar, my taste buds already tingling.

"Pancakes. Good call, Mom."

Mom did a mock bow. Dad walked from his room and ruffled my hair, gave Mom a kiss. Mom must've been feeling pretty confident, because she grabbed the collar of his work uniform and deepened it.

I sneered and stuck my tongue out. "Get a room!"

Mom gave dad a short look, one that spoke volumes. He grinned.

"See you after work," Mom waved, handing him his lunch.

Mom slid two medium size pancakes on my plate, with their signature, singed-somehow-in-the-middle touch. I never understood how she did that, though it gave it a Mom-ish flare. She put one on a plate for herself and walked around the bar to sit next to me. She'd already poured two glasses of our favorite drink.

Grace thought we were absolutely insane for drinking Coca-cola with nearly every meal. It's not like we could help it; we practically had a craving for the stuff. That and orange juice.

This morning she'd gone with Coke and I sighed happily, nearly downing the glass. "Thank you."

"No prob, kid," she elbowed me, whispered a small prayer, and drown her pancake in syrup. I took the liberty to do the same.

My dad, Daniel, said I was an exact copy of Mom, just in boy form.

"So," she dusted off her hands, "Here's the plan. The party starts at one. The guys" - she never called my aunts "aunts". They were just "the guys" - "will be here in a few to help set up."

She scrutinized my outfit. "Maybe you could put on some pants?"

"What's wrong with my shorts?" I asked, pancake particles dropping from my mouth. She tried not to laugh.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just - you know, you need to make an impression on Miracle Boy - I mean, Uncle Tristian."

"And why?"

Mom fidgeted in her seat, chewing her food uneasily. She shook her head. "Never mind. Forget it."

I opened my mouth to begin to pry deeper when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," I said, standing and running for the door. I looked through the peephole.

"Who is it?"

"It's your Mom, Air Head. Open up," Grace smirked.

"Sorry, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Grace shoved the door open anyway. I grinned. "And I'm not supposed to hit people, but hey, we're teenagers - we're supposed to do what we're not supposed to do, right?"

"Totally," I said, holding my hand out. She stared at it for a moment, a smile spreading across her lips.

We shook hands, turned sideways, hip-bumped each other, did a minuscule version of Mrs. Mary Mack, and ended with an exploding fist bump.

Aunt Zena shook her head softly, and immediately I wanted to apologize. She had that affect on me often. Before I could, Grace grabbed my arm and dragged me away. "Come on! I want to smuggle all the Coke before the Tornado Twins show up." By 'Tornado Twins', she was referring to our cousins, Olivia and Thomas Ferguson, Aunt Zember's kids. They were three years younger than us, and about as mature and reckless as three year _olds. _

Thomas loved soccer, though, so I couldn't complain. Soccer was my sport!

Grace scotched the sliding glass door just enough to squeeze through, and I followed, shutting it firmly behind me. Grace was already half way across the backyard, and a second longer she gripped the railing of the tree house. It was mine and Dad's prized creation. My eyes drifted to the scraps of wood and the beginning of a foundation on the back side of the tree house. We were planning to add on a game room, but it was a work and progress, with mom's recent loss of her job and it being summer and all.

"Hurry up, Slow Poke!" Grace called, already in the tree house. I took off at a sprint. The boards creaked beneath my weight.

I needed to lay off the pancakes.

Grace snatched her extra sketchpad from under one of the crates and took out her pencil, beginning to draw intricate lines across the paper. I leaned against the wall, hands in my pockets, watching in awe.

"What're you drawing?" I asked softly, afraid of breaking the glass-like silence.

She gave me a classical Grace-smirk. "You'll see, Crab Head."

"My name's Alex, by the way, in case you forgot, Short Stack." I rested my elbow on the top of her curly brown hair.

"Ha-ha," she sneered sarcastically, tossing my elbow off. "I'd head back down if I were you. You're mom's going to call in three...two...one."

"Alex!"

"How do you do that?" I wondered, half-laughing. "Ma'am?"

"Help!" She gave me a hard look (read: _I will kill you if you don't come control the Tornado Twins_).

"On my way," I nodded to Grace _I'll be right back, _and jumped from the tree house, landing roughly on the ground. I should've fallen, but hey, I'm the grandson of Hades, the god of the underworld and dirt-things. I easily yanked up a square mound to support my arm as I dropped, then bounced off it, running towards the house.

"Olivia, Tommy," I breathed, panting from the effort of ground-manipulating, "why don't we go play some soccer out back?"

Mischievous smiles spread across their lips and they glanced at each other. "LAST ONE THERE HAS TO BE GOALIE!" Tommy yelled. The two crash landed between me and the glass door, shoving me into it and knocking the breath out of me.

"Geez, what do you feed those kids, Aunt Zemb?" I asked, standing and wheezing all at once.

"It's not my fault," she nodded dejectedly towards uncle Zach. "They got it from his side."

"Hey," Uncle Zach leaned his head on her shoulder. "If I remember correctly, their mother used to be quite a daredevil."

Mom snorted. "Since when?"

"We've had our moments," he smirked. I flinched backwards, eyes wide, and Aunt Zember slapped him.

"Ex-nay on the moment-a's."

"Ohh-kay," I shoved my hands in my pockets, turning one-eighty. "I'm gonna go back out before I have to hear any more - "

As if I hadn't been hurt enough today, my favorite satyr, Hunter, tackled me from behind, sending us both flying to the floor.

"Aw, man, what'd you do that for?" I laughed, turning his baseball cap sideways. He grinned sheepishly at me, flipping it back so the flap was forward.

"You needed to be abused today."

"Already been! Multiple times," I rubbed my newly acquired bruises, shoving the crazy kid off of me. "Come on. I think Grace is about to blow up the twins' soccer ball with some of that lightning-vodo-crap she does."

We walked outside. The breeze had picked up, sending the smell of a fresh rain. I smiled. I loved it when it rained, almost as much as I loved getting hit the face with a ball going from nothing to eighty in a matter of seconds.

I was being sarcastic on the last one.

I ducked, yanking Hunter down with me. "Watch it, Tommy!" I yelled.

"Sorry, bro. You were in the way of Olivia's face." He grinned. I shook my head.

"You're crazy," I pulled Hunter back up, tugging him along to the tree house. "Don't break her nose again," I warned Tommy.

He shrugged. "It happens it happens. Incoming, Liv!" He reared back, kicking the ball with impressive force. It went airborn, going farther than Olivia would be able to run.

Of course, she couldn't let that happen.

Olivia chortled manically. "Return volley!" She jumped up and twisted in the air, letting out a loud, "HI-YA!" as she kicked the ball, sending it rocketing towards earth.

I grimaced. Mom was _so _not going to like the new crater in the backyard.

Trying to avoid being either smacked or called upon, I quickly ascended the ladder, pulling myself into the tree house for dear life.

"That rough, huh?" Grace cackled at my worn look. I sneered at her.

"Shut up, Grace."

"Better be nice to me, Jones, or won't get to see this gorgeous masterpiece of mine."

"Let me see," I held up my hand. It didn't surprise me when Grace handed it down obediently, a broad smile encompassing her face.

"What do you think?" She bit her bottom lip.

It was amazing.

I'd always known Grace was an artist, but this had to be her most epic work yet.

She'd drawn each of us in an exact likeness. Olivia and Tommy were paired in the corner. Tommy's shaggy brown hair hung in his eyes. He wore a green and white shirt three sizes too big and khaki shorts. He held a soccer ball under one arm whilst the other gave Olivia a noogie. Her blonde hair disguised half of her smile, a creepy yet very Olivia-like touch. She wore a pink top covered in roses, one of her other signature touches, a jean skirt and a headband to match the shirt. Hunter stood to the side, baseball cap on backwards, smiling sheepishly, a warm, velvety red to his cheeks. He wore merely a Camp Half-Blood tee, his skinny goat legs supporting him. And, in the middle sat Grace and I. My elbow rested atop her head, a triumphant smirk on my face, and she pouted, crossing her arms angrily, glaring ice daggers at my arm. I wore a red shirt in this picture, and, of course, my basketball shorts I'd gotten for Christmas. Grace had on a grey and purple dress that bounced near the bottom.

I chuckled when I saw her shoes: a work-boot and Combat mix.

_The Next Generation _displayed Grace's scrawled, "serial killer" handwriting, right across the top.

I smiled at her, hugging her sideways without a second thought. "This is great, Grace," I said, excitement building more and more with each passing minute. "You need to enter this into some art convention or - or a talent show or - "

"It's not good enough for that," she whispered, taking the paper from my hand. "I think I'll frame it, though. Hang it on my wall."

"Enter it!" I urged again. "Don't make me do it for you."

"_Don't make me do it for you,_" she mimicked in a high-pitch voice I'm pretty sure I didn't have. "I supposed you'd do everything _and _pee for me, too, if you could?"

"If I could," I agreed.

"Seriously, though, Grace. Consider entering this in _something_, even in a small contest where they give out those little baby ribbons that say "Good job!" or "You're the Greatest!" or something like that." I squeezed unto the box next to her, glancing at her from the side.

"Well...maybe," she mumbled.

For once, I realized just how pretty Grace was. Not best-friend pretty but..._beautiful. _

Her skin had this light tan that never seemed to fade. Her curls bounced around her freckle-speckled cheeks. Her small, infant-like nose curved outward from her face. She looked like a pug dog. Her lips were a thin line that could fade to nothing in moments, unless you really payed attention.

I wanted to kiss her, right then and there. I'm not sure why, but the urge ate at me, begging me to do it.

And I would have, had it not been for the stampede of people climbing up the ladder.

"Where is it?" Tommy asked, grabbing my upper arms and giving them a tight squeeze. "Where's the stuff, man!"

"Easy, Tom," I removed his hands. "What are you looking for?"

"You know what we want," Olivia practically snarled, completely clashing with her green soccer shirt and skirt. "Hand it over and no one gets hurt."

"Hunter," I glared. "You did it again, didn't you?"

"They were beating me down, man! I had no other choice!"

"You can't just rat out the stash! If you didn't have low blood sugar, _you _wouldn't know about the stash!"

"Hand it over, man," Hunter pleaded. "Just hand it over."

"B-but it's the stash - "

"Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum, I smell the blood and a dead quarter-blood!" Tommy paused, then snorted. "That's actually pretty catchy."

"No, Tommy, it's not," Olivia she rolled her eyes. "Ugh."

"For your information, _Olivia her Great Highness, _it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Shut up!"

"No! FEE-FI-FO-FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A DEAD QUARTER-BLOOD, FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A QUARTER BLOOD FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A QUARTER BLOOD!"

"Man, just give them the stuff!" Hunter shouted, hands over his highly-sensitive goat ears.

"But it's the stash!"

"ALEX!" Grace slapped me. "THEIR GOING TO BREAK THE TREE HOUSE FROM SCREAMING."

"YOU'RE SCREAMING!"

"SO ARE YOU!"

"FEE-FI-FO-FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A DEAD QUARTER-BLOOD, FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A QUARTER BLOOD FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A QUARTER BLOOD!"

"Allleexxx!" Hunter begged.

"La-la-la, I'm not listening!" Olivia had her fingers jabbed in her ears.

"Alexander Trenton Jones! Give them the bloody coke!" Grace just about popped my ear drums as she shook me roughly.

"Fine!" I dug under the multitude of boxes-made-into-chairs. My hand began to scratch around frantically. Where were they? "Gah!" I yelped, diving into the pile in an attempt to find them.

"FEE-FI-FO-FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A DEAD QUARTER-BLOOD, FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A QUARTER BLOOD FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A QUARTER BLOOD! FEE-FI-FO-FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A DEAD QUARTER-BLOOD, FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A QUARTER BLOOD FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A QUARTER BLOOD! FEE-FI-FO-FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A DEAD QUARTER-BLOOD, FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A QUARTER BLOOD FEE FI FO FUM I SMELL THE BLOOD OF - "

"Here!" I shoved the twelve pack of coke, both of them, in their hands. They high-fived and elbowed each other softly, like they were the best of friends.

Grace sighed beside me, her stormy eyes flickering with electric lights. Her hands steamed with grey, puffy smoke and she took deep, gulping breaths. "I was going to shock them," she growled, her eyes wide and fierce. I jutted my thumb towards the door with panicked eyes until Hunter got the message and shoved the twins out.

"Grace," I rubbed her shoulder blades. "It's okay. It's okay."

"You don't understand, man." Her breaths came in trembling sections of air, then no air. Air, no air, off an on for so long I thought she'd never catch her breath. "You just don't understand. _No one _understands. Not even Mom."

I've seen Grace cry all of three times in my life.

This was the first.

"I've got all of this hot, angry energy coursing through me," she sobbed. "I can't explain it, Mom can't explain it, Grandad _surely won't _explain it! I'm tired of feeling like this, Alex! I'm - I'm tired of feeling like I should control every little thing! I - I don't know if I can take it anymore, this constant need to control. I feel like such a mad man, I - Alex... "

"Hey," my own breath became shallow. "Listen. I, uh, well...I guess you're right. No one knows what you're going through. But maybe that's a good thing. When you were born, you were given your own soul, right? Own mind, own likes and dislikes?" She nodded into my shoulder, sniffling. "And, well, you were given your special talents. We all were. Thomas and Olivia acquired extreme annoyingness and soccer," she chuckled, "I got the stunning good looks and the brains," she shoved me softly. I wrapped my arm around her tighter. "You've got this amazing art skill, and Hunter has...eh, he's all-around. And on top of that art, um, you were given...no, you were _granted _with this ability that you can't understand. We can't all understand everything all the time, right?"

"I suppose," she wiped her nose on her jacket sleeve.

"Whatever this is...it'll pass. Or it'll get worse and we'll have to find a new way to work through it. I don't know. What I do know, though, is that you are beautiful, and intelligent and you could kick my butt in your sleep - if you were in a coma."

"That's true," she laughed.

"And I'm sure it's for the better, you know? Aren't all things for the better or the good, even the bad or some kind of fancy-smancee quote like that?"

"I thought you were the smart one."

"It's Saturday. Smart mode doesn't exist on Saturday." I took a deep breath. "We'll figure this out. This means something so much bigger than we realize, Grace. You've just got to hang on and see where the ride takes you, you know?"

"Yeah. I know." She pulled her father's old pocket watch from her coat pocket. "Ten to one. Best be heading back down to the party."

I grinned and ruffled her hair. "That's my girl." We both glanced to the door.

"Last one there's Chiron crap!"

"Inappropriate," she rebuked, "but accepted!"

She left our self-portraits sitting on the crate.

I wish now I would've gone back to pick it up.

You see, this birthday wouldn't go like I wanted.

Like I planned.

Everything was literally about to go up in flames.


	2. I'll Seduce You to Sleep

I'm usually not one for slumber parties.

Or birthday parties.

Or parties.

Or, really, anything to do with any type of human contact. Still, Alex was my best friend, and I couldn't find it in myself to come up with some lame excuse to not come. Besides, the poor kid needed me. He'd be lost without me around.

So, I came. We went through that whole fiasco with the twins, Hunter, my drawing and, of course my little "problem".

It started when I was three. I was chasing this butterfly around the yard. Every time I came close to catching it, it managed to elude me. I got frustrated and my palms started smoking. My ears rang with an electrifying power, sizzling and popping like a microwave. Clouds began to form, crashing into each other almost competitively over my head. They rumbled.

"Grace?" My mother yelled from the patio.

I reached for the butterfly again and missed. My fists clenched. My head swam.

I could smell the electricity, the fire, the power coursing through my veins. It called me to rule it, to be over it, to use it and create it for something that was just out of reach in my mind, much like the butterfly.

The smoke clogged around me. Lightning struck to my right.

I tried again for the butterfly and again it flew away.

I screamed in outrage.

"Grace!"

The lightning crackled.

"Tristian!" She called to the left. Her attention scrabbled back to me. "Grace, stop!"

I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

I wanted that butterfly more than anything else.

In a last attempt I went for it -

"GRACE!" It echoed in my ear drums like the pounding of a wave. My body burned and my eyes stung. My very flesh sizzled before my eyes. I felt like the witch in the wizard of Oz, melting by the water's touch. Her scream pierced through my numbness.

She ran for me. Crashed beside me. Held my head and cried out, screaming for every Greek god known in existence. She gingerly reached for my arms, which burned with the heat of a thousand Fields of Punishment. I remember salty tears running down my cheeks. I remember seeing the smoke, the clouds clogging my vision.

"Dad, please!" Mom cried to the sky.

"Grace," Alex put his hand on my shoulder. I shuddered, the memory subsiding, for now at least. I could still feel my skin bubbling with heat.

"Yeah?" I croaked.

"You missed the birthday song." My best friend pouted vainly. "I guess you'll have to sing it all by yourself."

I snorted. "In your dreams, Death Breath."

"What if I deal it out of you? If Tommy gives me another soccer ball for my birthday, you have to sing the song to me. If he gets me what I actually want, I'll clean your bathroom."

I tapped my chin. "_And _my bed room. Under the bed included." He shuddered now.

"That's scary. But deal." He spit into his palm and held out his hand. I did the same, and we shook, saliva mixing with saliva.

"Alex!" Aunt Zirk's voice clawed the air. Something seemed off about her lately. Along with my awesomely-weird electro-kill'y powers and the ability to sense oncoming storms, I acquired the power of reading people's auras. I know, crazy, but one hundred percent true. Zirk's aura had gone from a fiery orange, which clearly described her, to a mellow, timid, almost careful pink. It was strange, to say the least.

"Presents waiting, broseph! Better come claim 'em for I take 'em." he snorted. "Hey, that's pretty catchy, too!"

"No, it's not, Tommy," Olivia sneered, starting the vicious cycle again. I groaned.

"Stop them."

He winked, holding a thumbs up. "On it. Let's go, shorty." Together, without mention of the usual race, jogged to the patio, swinging open the glass doors and tumbling inside.

"Mine first!" Olivia piped.

"No, mine!" Tommy interjected. I slunk to the background, drifting by my mother. Sadly, we shared the same feeling, of being out-casted from the group, not that I minded. I enjoyed my space.

She nudged me as the twins continued to argue until Alex decided on one sent from his grandma on his Dad's side. "You should go up there."

"Nah," I shook my head, crossing my arms in her like fashion. "It's not worth it. Maybe when he picks up Call of Duty Three and has a heart attack of happiness."

She chortled. "I doubt anyone can have a heart attack of happiness."

I raised my eyebrows. "You'd be surprised, Mom." I gestured to Alex, having to call over the budding heads. "What's it, bro?"

"Book," he answered curtly, soft smile purring on his lips. "_The Book Thief._"

I laughed, "Fancy."

He nodded approvingly. "Totally, right?" He turned back to the present table, plucking another from the stack. Board game, the original clue from his mom. He hugged Zirk passionately, my best friend amused by the simplest of things. The rest of the gifts coincided between new books, the latest films, right down to Olivia's gag-gift - a jersey of Alex's most hated baseball team. I'll admit, I snorted loudly when he lifted it up, the fakest smile I'd ever seen on his face.

"Gee, Liv. Thanks."

She bowed regally. "All in a day's work, my good sir." She smirked, winking to let him know her game. He winked back, folding the shirt and placing in a neat pile on the table, next to his other new possessions.

And then, the final present. Tommy's. I leaned forward slightly, arches perched on edge, my entire fate sitting on what lay inside.

The bag itself hid the present. Alex ripped up the tissue paper, tossing it this way and that, earning a collection of eyerolls between my mom, Zirk, Zember and Zephanie. The three men eyed each other uneasily, making excuses to head out back through the sliding glass doors. Dad patted his pack of ciagarettes against his palm. I shivered, muttering, "I wish he wouldn't do that."

Mom wrapped her arm around my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as Alex lifted the present high into the air.

I moaned and fell to the floor, burrying my face in the floorboards in defeat.

Alex stood above me, smirking, holding the ball out for all to see.

He stooped down next to me, tapping my skull. "You know what has to happen, G."

"No."

"You shook on it."

"Can I die instead?"

"Nope."

"Take a rain-check?"

"'Fraid not."

I scowled up at him. He smiled back, holding the ball out. "Wanna hold it? Freshly made..." he flipped the box around, looking for the name. "...Wilson. A freshly made _Wilson. _Now all we need is an island, an ice-skate, and you're tooth blood."

"You're funny." Flopping my face back on the floor, I held out my hand expectantly. He lifted me up without question, and I snatched the ball from him with peeved hands. All eyes were on me. Olivia and Tommy had made their ways outside, now balancing the crater-making soccer ball between their selective knees. Hunter sat on the couch, downing another one of Alex's precious Cokes. Him and his mother eyed it jealously before turning back to me.

"You promised you'd sing it," he whispered in my ear.

"Not in front of _everyone_!" I whisper-screamed back.

He mulled it over before nodding his acceptance. "Alright. Tonight, during the slumber party, you have to get down on your knees in front of my bag, make the creepiest, most skin-crawling and disgusting pedophile look you can muster, and whisper it to me in a seductive manor."

My eyes widened with horror.

"Or sing it in front of everyone." he shrugged. "Your choice."

"Pssh," my lips rolled. I threw the ball-in-a-box at him. "I'll seduce you to sleep."

"That's my girl. Now," he gestured to everyone. "Let's eat!"


	3. But I Wasn't Fast Enough

Olivia and I played ball on a regular bases. Sometimes she won. Sometimes I won. Sometimes I yelled at her and called her a cheater. Sometimes I let her get away with whatever tactic she'd used at the time.

Why do I, the suavest of all of Alex's friends and cousins, tell you this? Because it is a relative fact that everyone must know. My sister and I are super competitive Dad says when we were being born, we literally fought over who would go first. Mom tells us that's impossible, but Dad swears by it. I've learned to trust Dad more than Mom.

Anyway. It was Alex's birthday and Olivia and I were outside on the dew-stained grass, further-dirtiying our already ruined gym clothes. Coach was going to kill us if Mom couldn't get these grass stains out. I kicked the ball between my feet, the two of us passing the ball back and forth like civilized human beings, in an attempt to not ruin Aunt Zirk's yard any more than we had. She really _would_ kill us.

Then men disappeared as we came out, heading back in for the cake I knew was approaching, the three of them seeming particularly amused by Grace's on-the-floor extravaganza. I was happy for the privacy. Then.

"Tell me, Liv," I started, kicking the ball, my tongue jutted into the air in concentration.

"What, Tom?" she kicked it back. I glowered at her menacingly.

"It's Tommy or Thomas, Fish for Brains."

"Look who's all upset 'cause he doesn't have Grandad's powers," Olivia stuck her tongue out at me, drawing small droplets of water from the heaving clouds.

"I'm not upset," I sent the ball flying. She jumped up and caught it on her elbow, bringing it back down to Earth. "I'm just fairly frustrated."

"So that's what we're calling it now."

"Shove it up your mom's tailpipe, Liv."

"My mom is your mom wise guy."

"Down your dad, in my pants," I retorted, snatching the ball from mid-air. She started to accuse me of cheating, raising a finger in halt. I stopped her with a wave of a dismissive hand. "And I can water bend, sometimes, Katara." She snorted. "But seriously, Liv - I heard you and Dad and Mom talking. What's this about some scholarship?"

Olivia, taken off guard, fell aback, landing butt-first in the grass, the breath knocked out of her. Without hesitation but with a smirk I jogged over, helping her back up.

"I know I'm breath-taking, Liv, but that was a little unnecessary."

"No, it's not that, dolt." She slapped me, panting as she tried to drag air back into her lungs. "It's just that - well, Mom asked me not to tell you."

I crossed my arms and cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "You're telling me you've never gone against Mom's wishes?"

"Not directly," she replied solemnly. Alex hollered for food inside.

"Let's eat," Liv dropped the ball and ran off, leaving me shivering in the cold. Rain was approaching fast, that I knew. I didn't have Grace's crazy voo-doo weather powers, and I was kind of glad. With Liv as a sister, I would have imploded in lightning by now. My sneakers trudged through the damp grass, the leaves rustling beneath them.

Or...no. Those weren't my feet making that noise.

My neck swiveled to the side as a figure ducked beneath the trees, a soft trail of purple following close behind.

As a quarter blood, I've learned to not take any magic-looking devices lightly, and I was pretty sure right then that that wasn't any cosmic rain-symbol or the Aurora Borealis. It was something bigger, and, I sensed, far, _far _more dangerous. For precaution, I took my shark-toothed necklace from my shorts pocket and tugged on the first one. A spear elongated in my hand, clicking perfectly into place on my palm.

"Who's there?" I called, lowering my spear and crouching down, making my way to the brush. "Tell me who you are and I promise I won't hurt you. Too much."

A voice cackled, the sound piercing and oddly soothing. "Oh, you poor, simple fool." She stepped from the bushes. Her skins stretched across her face with odd flaps tucking beneath them, like lazy wrinkles. Her hands were withered and glowing purple, her eyes seething with a wild and particularly murderous look. She gave a sinister smile. "Do you not already know who I am?"

"Mother Gothel from Tangled?"

Her eyes burned with fury. "The audacity of you, child. Did your poor mother not tell you about me?"

"Whoa, are you, like, my great, great, great, great, great great - "

"Silence!" the she-beast roared.

Okay, so it wasn't my best (or funniest) choice of words, but she could have at least given me half credit for throwing a quote in there. "Great, great aunt," I finished, leveling my spear. I didn't trust any creature that didn't love a good Disney quote. "As in the multi-great aunt I'm about to kill."

I lunged. What normally would have penetrated any monster - celestial bronze with some oceanic health-spell cast across it by my grandfather, Poseidon, mixed with a bit of Hermes' relation to me - didn't phase the woman a bit, and she jumped with ease, my spear missing by a good half a foot.

"Very nice," she yawned. "Grand tatic. Chiron, right?" she tsked, checking under a fingernail. "Sadly, it's all remedial." her eyes met mine. "My turn."

I'm a fast runner. One has to be to get anywhere in soccer. But at that moment, this crazy grandmother-gone-Disney-psycho came barreling at me so fast I barely had the chance to blink. Her fist slammed into my chest and I went rocketing backwards, my body slamming with a horrid thud into the tree. The leaves ruffled above with the force of the impact, my body convulsing.

Somewhere high above the woman laughed. "Helpless baby boy," she cooed. My jaw clenched.

"I am _not _helpless," I growled through gritted teeth. She cackled again, a skill I'm guessing she'd managed to perfect. I climbed shakily to my feet and glanced inside. Everyone was far away from the sliding glass doors, unable to see anything, their vision blocked by a mere centimeter of white door frame. I gulped. _No. This is one monster I have to fight alone._

"Is that all you got, Mother Gothel?" I taunted, still shaking, trying to find my ground.

Suddenly she appeared before me, a trail of mist following. "Hmm. No." A magenta glow wrapped itself around me, a giant fist that threw me into the air, so high I got dizzy, my vision clouded. Another second later the fist slammed into the ground, my back snapping with the force, and I groaned in agony. The oceanic healing spell. It help me when water wasn't near. My fingers edged for the tip.

I swear she read my mind. She stalked over and ripped my spear from my grasp, and I gave a cry of outrage. "No!" she bent her knee and snapped my spear, my precious spear, in two.

My mind went hazy, my blood fueled on pure psychotic-Hermes energy. It was probably a good thing we weren't near a jewelry store.

Waves roared in my ears, and I glared the woman down, fists clenched. "There isn't _anybody _that can touch my spear_._" I seethed, raising my hands, water from the air swirling around me in a huge tidal wave. My pulse pounded in my ears and I stumbled. I was too weak. I knew better than to try summoning water.

The woman laughed, walking up to me with ease. My arms gave way right before I was to strike and I collapsed to the ground. She stood over me, smiling, chuckling, waving her misty hands around. "Oh you poor, unfortunate - "

"_Leave. Him. Alone._" Alex's eight inch sword gleamed in the fading sunlight, storm clouds brewing mightily overhead. The woman's head turned, her body creaking along with it, and a smile only Cruella DeVil could top spread across her face.

"Ah, Alexander. It's been a while since we last met. Your third birthday, I believe?"

Alex's face paled. "No. Not - not you."

She laughed. "Ha, yes! Me! In the living flesh," she pinched her skin. "You like? Stole it from a mortal. She wasn't the prettiest, mind you, but she did for the time being, until I became strong enough to finish you and your family once and for all."

"Agatha," Zirk took a step in front of her son, holding her hand out. "We don't want -"

"Do I look as though I _care _what you want? Nay, child!" Her eyes rested back on mine, and I'll admit, I'm pretty sure I peed my pants. "These children will be coming with me." Mother Gothel, now supposedly Agatha, nodded to herself, almost prideful in hers having come up with such a brilliant - *cough* sarcasm *cough* - plan. "Yes. That'll do nicely." She turned back to Zirk. "Hand them over, please."

Zirk smirked, ripping off her charm bracelet and pressing its small button, a bow, quiver, and arrows elongating in her hands. In one swift move, faster than a lightning bolt strikes the quiver was over her head and the bow was notched, her body crouched into an expert-archer position.

"Fat chance, Grandma," Zirk pulled back on her arrow. "You have until the count of three to release my best friend's son before your already-should-have been annihilation occurs. One."

Agatha shook her head. "You misunderstand, Zirk. I hold all the cards in my hands. You really have none at all."

"Two." Zirk wasn't shaken, a trait I admired. I began to move but whimpered with the pain in my back. Agatha pounced an foot firmly on my chest, restricting me from any movement, not that I minded. Movement hurt, forcible still-ness was somewhat acceptable.

"And you see, you know that I have you beat," she casually rolled her neck, the bones cracking. I swear I saw skin shift into a better position. "Ahh. Much better. This mortal spent far too much time hunched over a book."

"Yuck," Liv sneered, pulling out her identical spear, this once tipped with electricity, something our dear friend Rodney Rodriguez had shown us last year at camp. "Camp" meaning Camp Half-Blood of course. "What's your problem, lady? Stealing people's bodies and whatnot. It's gross." She took a step outside and stood beside Zirk. Alex got his act together and moved closer up, too. Grace's fingers wrapped around her paint brush, and she quickly painted a dagger, the device showing up in her hand, and she stepped forth. Zena's box of knives appeared in her hands. Mom pulled Shark-Tooth from her pocket, the sword starting out as a fork before growing into a foot long, shark-toothed edged blade. It was wicked sweet, though at that moment in my haze-filled and crushed-ness I wondered where they got Shark teeth so white.

The men and my dad added their share, the only person not there Uncle Daniel. He had work, and I remember thinking, _Shame he's going to miss his family's death._

"Three," Zirk spoke, and all of them charged, coming at the woman full force.

"FREEZE!" she raised her hand and all of them froze mid-time, their mouths agape and eyes wide, iris' flicking this way and that, trying to get their words out in glances. Agatha clapped excitedly, jumping, using my softened stomach as leverage for getting to them. She touched Zirk's cheek and traced a hand downward towards her stomach. Zirk watched the hand with such worry that I felt a bit of remorse for her. What could she be hiding that was so precious in her stomach? (God I was naive back then.)

"Ooh, yes!" she clapped again, a child in a toy story. "Oh, this is so very, very grand! Everything is going straight to plan, and I didn't even require the help of that stupid bull and his master." She began to move her palms, separating the frozen humans, from adults to children. Once they were all situated as statues in the grass, right out of one of the famous _Sally Jackson-Blofis _collections, Agatha twisted her fingers around, a blue circle illuminating over the adults' group. She used the opposite hand on the kids', a yellow ring encompassing it. I gave a small moan when she leaned back to admire her work, stepping on my fingers.

"Oh. You." She picked me up and with a flick of her wrist tossed me into yellow ring, my eyes blinking with profuse tears. My back burned with a thousand burning flames, and I was pretty sure I was about zero point two seconds away from passing out when Uncle Daniel made his way out back, carrying a pill bottle.

"Hey, Zirk, where was that - uh - " he paused and turned to face the two groups, her eyes meeting his. "No." He shook his head, eyes traveling in a fast heap from left to right. "God, no! Come on, Agatha, didn't we - "

"Silence!" she screamed, her face taunt as she threw Daniel, unconscious to the ground in the adults' pile.

With a last breath and I breathed out, my spine hurting and every inch of my pride broken.

I wish we could have started that day over. I'd have done it so differently.

Sadly, time doesn't permit that.

And it didn't exactly permit our survival, either.


	4. The Multiple Cages of Impending Doom

Waking up on island with a creak in her neck, her hands bound and her mouth gagged wasn't exactly what Zirk meant when she said she wanted to go on vacation. The others groaned around her, hands also bound and mouths gagged.

Suddenly, everything that had happened in what she was sure in the past twenty-four hours slammed her in the chest, knocking her backward with a large force.

No. That wasn't memories. That was a fist.

Zirk wretched, her body racking, the gag literally gagging her as she leaned back and forth, choking on air that didn't seem to exist. Agatha laughed. "It's been a long time, Zirk. Far too long."

"Wha fum a fah?" Zirk said, meaning to say, _What do you want Agatha?_

"To crush your puny spirit. And kill your child of course."

"Buh vy?" _But why?_

"Because he's the only one that can kill me." She gave a flick of the wrist as if it were old news in yesterday's paper. Zirk's blood tingled with ferocious energy. "Ah, ah, ah," Agatha shook her head, staring at that same putrid nail that didn't even belong to her. "I wouldn't if I were you. Might damage the, oh, how should I put this? _Delicate _package."

"Moo udd nant!" _You wouldn't!_

"Oh, but I so, so would. Ha ha ha!" She circled the only conscious member of the group. "Seem familiar? It was a cage last time, wasn't it? Ah, yes, because I had your father and his brothers all trapped in the cage opposite."

"See nah meh favah." _He's not my father._

"I beg to differ, darling. Hades runs in your blood." She gave a small smile, tilting Zirk's chin up to meet hers. "How's the hand? Still mechanical?" Agatha ripped the skin graph away, revealing the mechanical hand that felt like any other body part should. Zirk couldn't remember the last time she'd actually removed it; the last time she'd actually knew it wasn't a real hand.

"A permanent reminder of me and what I can do. Isn't it marvelous?" Zirk began to scream, but Agatha cut her off with a simple raised finger to the lips. "No no darling. Not here. Not yet."

A flick of her hand, a dusting of light, and the woman was gone.

Zirk didn't know what she wanted to do more - vomit or cry.

One wasn't because of the situation.

* * *

"Where are we?"

I'm blonde. Thomas knew this before we were born. I was the brainiac and Head Commander Master Planner when it came to pranks at Camp Half-Blood, not to mention I was flippin' gorgeous with my bright green eyes that sparkled like the ocean, flecks of blue, gold, and grey among them. My eyes were constellations and my hair was the sun - not a bad gig when one is dying for a boyfriend.

However, among my blondeness, I did realize that we were in a cage, separated by family group I assumed, and my brother was snoring on my back.

A vault door creaked open. Heels clacked on cold pavement. My spine tingled and I ran a hand up Tommy's back. "Thomas," I whispered, shaking him slightly, his shirt wrinkling under my hands. Dried blood lie on the outside of his shirt. Being the nosy person I am, I lifted his shirt and looked at it - a painful mistake. His spine had obviously cracked; pierced right through his skin. Except only the hole remained. Where back bone should have been there was none. I pressed on the wound in hopes of waking him that way, but he didn't even make a sound.

Magic. I felt it on my fingers as I drew them back. She'd healed him. But why?

"Ah, good. I'm glad you're awake, Olivia."

"I'm not awake. I'm sleep...mending."

She nodded, hands tucked behind her back. "Oh, I'm sure."

I smirked. "Glad we're on the same page."

Her eyes narrowed and I bit back a laugh. Of course I'm the one who completely loses it while making fun of a magic-wielding psychopath that had probably killed my parents and aunts.

"I was uncertain of whom I'd choose first. Now, you've chosen for me. You'll attend the first of the..._play sets._" I had a feeling that whatever "play sets" she was talking about weren't the ones from McDonald's.

I held my hand up in defense. "Look, lady, I don't want any trouble - "

"Trouble you'll have!" she exploded, raging towards the cage. Her withered hands took hold on the bars, squeezing them until I could see right through the mortal's skin and into her own wobbly spirit. It was caked with darkness and swirled with evil. In it I could see the things she had planned, the things that would happen. I saw a giant scorpion, a desert, rocks that grew high into the night sky. A sea monster charged down our parents on some island - so they weren't dead after all - and...

"No," I spoke the word deftly. "No. She can't - you can't - " my eyes flicked to Alex. He couldn't handle something like that. Heck, _I _couldn't handle it.

Her smile cracked through her face, long and dangerous, her fingers claws reaching out to me. She released the bars and backed away, kicking my brother through the grates. His snore cut short and he jumped up, only to give an "Ack," in pain and fall back down.

"The magic only lasts a short time," she explained. "Soon he will perish. The bone will snap and he will die, just as Z - "

"Just as you will if you don't release us," Grace stood in her cage, grabbing the bars just as Agatha had. "Don't do this, Agatha. I know you. I know there has to be something in you that doesn't want to destroy us, destroy the Big Three. You're a good person, Agatha. Remember, when you used to play with your mother on her island? When she gave you those makeovers, told you you were the prettiest and strongest daughter she'd ever had?"

That struck a cord. Agatha stomped over. "How could you possibly know that?" she screeched.

"Our Roman relative Reyna," Grace replied quietly, backing up an inch or two. "She used to be prisoner, her, and her sister, on Circe's island. Your grandmother, Hecate; she visited quite often, did she not? And she treated Circe in such a hateful way. Didn't you grow to abhor her? It's not us you want, Agatha, and it's not the Big Three. You only want revenge for something you could not control."

"Lies!"

"Truth," Grace squared her shoulders, crossing her arms. Now, Grace was no daughter of Aphrodite, but she'd inherited the power of Charm Speak from somewhere. Even I'd begun to calm down, though my shoulders tensed with the sudden hatred I felt for Hecate. I tried to drown it out by humming one of Taylor Swift's songs. It did little to help.

"Silence, girl!" Maybe it did help. I'd missed whatever Grace had said. Agatha reached in to slap her, but Grace moved away, sidestepping into the farthest corner of the cage.

"Let us go, Agatha," her weakest attempt yet. "You don't want us."

Agatha thought for a moment before her eyes grew hard. "No. You're right. I don't." Her eyes shifted to Alex. "I want _him. _I want to ruin his life and make him suffer." She turned back to Grace. "He cares for you more than anything. It'd be a shame if," She flicked something from her nail, "if something happened to you in front of him."

As much as she tried to hide it, Grace's face drained in fear - making her appear as a ghost with how white her skin had already been.

"Don't hurt him," She whispered.

"I have a plan, Grace Forten." She laughed. "I have a plan indeed. You, with me!" she raised a finger. My cage door open and I was dragged out, screaming at the top of my lungs. She pulled me, an invisible force tugging, towards a concrete door.

Grace gave me her best _it'll be okay _look. "Don't fight her, okay, Livie?" anxiety flooded her face. "Do what she says! Don't get hurt. We'll get you out - I'll, I'll figure out - "

The door slammed behind us.


	5. Television Death

"Did Reyna really tell you all of that? About Agatha?" Alex rubbed his tired neck, and I sat in my own personal cage, sawing my nails off with my goat-chompers. Sometimes it wasn't easy being me; the only not-normal teenager, in a sense. I was quiet, and meek, and rarely said a word against or to somebody. I'd come to figure they'd forgotten I was there until Alex had woken up and seen me whimpering in the cage to the right of him.

"Hey," he'd reached through the bars, patting my arm. "It's a'right, Hunter. We'll figure a way out of this mess." He didn't sound too confident.

Now we were sitting in pretty much the same order, I on the right of Alex's cage, Grace on the left, and Thomas, still perpetually knocked out, in the cage right of mine. Grace had told us hurriedly about Agatha, her comments to throw her off, and how she'd taken Olivia.

"She's the weakest of all of us," she'd said, glancing at the somewhat conscious Thomas. "No offense, Tom."

"None taken," he coughed, groaning.

"Some," Grace held her hand in a fifty-fifty motion. "Reyna's always found me easy to talk to, I guess because Bellona and Zeus are closely related or something. She constantly told me stories of her life before becoming Legion at Camp Jupiter, which I found a little creeping, but also sort of endearing, that she trusted me so closely and all. Anyway, remember when I said I could read auras? When I _proved _I could?" She cut a glance to Alex, who smiled sheepishly, leaning back on his hands. He almost laughed.

"Do I ever," he held up an elbow. "Still have the scar to prove it."

Grace nodded in his direction, and Thomas slurred, "Get a w'oom!"

"Get some sleep!" Grace shot back. "You're going to need your strength."

"Shu' up. 'Oar not my mum."

"I think she is," Alex agreed, sitting up straighter and wrapping his arms around his knees. "Seriously, Tom. You need rest. I've got to see if I can find any healing potion somewhere, or - wait."

Alex dug in his shorts pocket, a hopeful face turning into one of regret.

"I took my ambrosia out this morning," his eyes widened. "Oh, God, Grace, what are we going to do?"

"I'll think of something," her smile said she wasn't fully convinced in herself, let alone Alex.

"I'll be fine," his voice sounded drained, literally like the life was seeping from the room I could have sworn Agatha had healed. Apparently not for any time, Grace had said.

"I hope so, buddy," Grace lied on her stomach, facing the wall, staring into oblivion with those wide grey eyes. Sometimes I wondered if maybe she had Athenian blood in her - her grandmother was a demigod after all.

"As I was saying," Grace continued on the floor of her cell, "I was able to read things about Agatha through her gait, the anxiety in her movements, the twitch in her eyes, and her eyes themselves - they were some of the easiest readable eyes I've ever come across. She's afraid of something, but of what, I'm unsure. She's also over confident, which is why it was so easy to read her past."

"I didn't realize you had the powers of deduction, Mr. Holmes."

"It's _Mrs. _Holmes to you, Clarky."

"Aw, c'mon. Aren't I Watson?"

"You become Watson _after _you become Gladstone," she reminded him. Alex turned to me.

"I used to be Lestrade, the most idiotic of all of Scotland Yard's detectives - not that Scotland Yard isn't a joke in itself anyway." Him and Grace cracked up a little, whilst I sat, completely oblivious. I'd never been one for movies and Alex and Grace thought I was crazy for it. I can't count the number of times they insisted I watch this movie or that, that I watch the Grammys and the Oscars, that I listen to such and such's scores.

Thomas gasped, dragging us away from our conversation. "Hunter," Grace snapped her fingers. My ears perked and I turned towards her. "I can't reach him, but I need you to do me a huge fave, okay?" She spoke to me as one speaks to a child; like I was incompetent of the most obey-able of commands. I set my hoofs straight.

"Okay?"

"Reach over and take his temperature. Tell me how hot he feels." Her nose twitched like her eyes, a sharp movement to the left. I didn't hesitate, stretching my rather short arm through the barricades, resting my palm on Tommy's forehead. I hissed, pulling my hand back in pain.

"Magic." they said in unison.

"But that doesn't make sense," Alex stood, pacing around his cage, grasping bars and dropping them again. I moved my hand from Tommy's head and moved closer to the two of them.

"What doesn't?"

"Come on, Grace. You see the pattern here. You said yourself Agatha used magic to heal his back. But if that's magic in his fever - if she's reversing the magic with more magic - what could possibly be her gain? Why would she stop an inevitable death just to make more death?"

"To slow it down?" I murmured. "To torture him, us?"

"It's a good theory, Hunter," Alex nodded, not taking me seriously. I crossed my arms, huffing gruffly and blowing curly hair from my forehead. "It's not airtight."

"Let's pull a Sherlock Holmes, then." I didn't mind being picked last in the group. I didn't mind being included because I had to be. I didn't mind being forgotten, but for some reason, in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be noticed, recognized for my strengths and long-comings. They looked at me queerly. "Wasn't is Holmes that said, _When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth?_"

Alex grinned, snapping his fingers, looking at Grace. "So he has been doing his homework."

I felt my ears go pink. "I try," I said.

"That's actually pretty excellent," Grace said, tapping her chin. "He's on to something there." Grace stood and began pacing about her cage, hands tucked behind her back. Alex had taken his seat once again, legs crossed Indian style, fingers folded neatly under his chin, brow furrowed in thought. I leaned against the back of mine own cage, lost in a sea of swimming thoughts for what seemed like forever.

"She wants someone else to see it." Grace spoke at last, causing us all, minus Tommy, to jump.

"Who else is watching?" Alex frowned. "Unless...no way."

Grace nodded, grinning bitterly. "Yes, way."

"Way what?"

They turned on me. "Don't you see?" Grace asked, excitement fueling her every move. "She wants us - she wants _our parents__ - _to suffer. She wants to remind them of what she can do, that they haven't seen the last of her. She's making a point - even the kids of the prophecy can't defeat her. Not even the great Alexander Jones." Alex and Grace shared an uneasy glance.

"We're on television." They spoke in unison, eyeing the things I'd thought to be just wall decorations. Something inside of them moved, zooming in and out. _Cameras._

Far away, someone let loose a blood curdling scream, my ears ringing with the high-pitched sound.

Tommy bolted up straight, gasping, groaning, falling back over. "Olivia!" he hurriedly explained. He looked at me, sweat pounding down his forehead. "That's Livie."

I put my head in my hands. We were doomed.

* * *

"Good morning, Starshine," purred a voice in her ear. Zirk's eyes blinked wearily, only to come face to face with an immortal in a mortal's body. Zirk gasped, flailing backwards, landing on Daniel, who woke, stunned, bumping Tristian until the entire fleet sat up, muttering curses and multiple slurred versions of "Where are we?"

"No response?" Agatha shook her head. "Too before your time?"

"Agatha?" Daniel rubbed his neck. "What...?" He recoiled, examining the area around him. "What the - " He leaned up, looking at the person on his lap. "Zirk?" What...?"

"We were kidnapped, genius," Zena snapped, jerking herself upward from her husband. Her hands remained tied behind her back, though all gags had been removed. Zena stood. "What kind of game is this, Agatha?" She glanced around. "Where's Grace?"

"Hunter?" Zephanie called.

"Alex?" Daniel looked around.

"Olivia...Tommy..." Zember's voice was barely existent until it grew cold like her stare. "_What _did you do to them?" she growled, standing. "I swear, Agatha - " the sea began to boil.

"Easy, Zember," Agatha raised her hands. "I promise I won't harm a hair on their heads." Like a villain she dropped a strand of hair in each of their laps - Zemeber, the pin straight blonde hair of Olivia and the curlish brown of Thomas'. Zirk and Daniel, darkened hair that mimicked his father's. Zephanie and Glen, a reddish curly top, and finally Zena, volume-riddled chocolate hair. Zemeber's mouth pursed and she raised her head.

"Don't hurt them," she rasped. "Please." She took a step closer, trying to hold out her hand in a symbol of peace, yanking against the tight rope. "Agatha, do anything to us you want. Just, please," she sniffled. "Not them."

"Hmm," Agatha feigned change at heart. "I suppose...but no." She laughed, shaking her head. "This is entirely too much fun." She grinned. "A real hoot."

"Oh, my God," Zember rocked back and forth. "Oh, my _Zeus._"

"But don't you see, darling?" Agatha hooked her arms behind her back. "This is what you've all wanted. In my down time over the last thirty some odd years, I've been keeping track of you." She paused in front of Zember's trembling form. "Don't you remember? Weren't the twins being a "royal pain?" Didn't you want nothing more than a long, _long _vacation from them?"

Zember's face fell.

She was right.

"And you, Zena? You kept talking of the break you needed." She passed over the black haired woman, who hung her head in shame. Secretly her eyes burned and her nose grew red, but she refused to cry. Tristian inched closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder, obsidian locks tickling her nose. The almost-same locks Grace had.

"Zephanie, all Hunter's unfinished cans?" Her breath cut short, a pain more intense than any other burning where her heart lay. She gave Glen a look. He nodded, _I know. I know._

She crossed over to Zirk, still tied ad gagged. She pulled her head up by her hair. "Ah, and Zirk. Carrying that scum's child I see." Daniel's eye grew wide and he looked to his wife, her eyes closed and face defeated. Agatha glared at the two. "I should have killed you when I had the chance. I won't make the same mistake again." She threw Zirk to the sand, and she choked, gasping. Daniel scooted over, lying his body in front of hers. "Oh, how sweet," Agatha teased. "Remember this as I kill your children." She cackled, tossing open a magenta-tinted portal to the holding cave. She flung a hand backwards, a large screened television appearing from thin air, screen crackling with snow. "Au revior! Ha ha ha!"

Zember gave a shriek, pointing. "Olivia?"

"Hello?" Olivia's hands pressed against the grey of a small cubical. Around her wrists and ankles were oddly thick circles.

"Trackers," Tristian breathed. "We use those - "

"Shh!" Zemeber's arms flailed and she crawled closer to the screen.

"Hello!" Olivia's voice grew desperate. "Somebody, please! Help me!" Tears pooled in her mother's eyes the same instant they pooled in hers.

"That's quite enough, deary." Agatha's voice boomed. Olivia convulsed, covering her ears from a loud, long beeping sound that came from somewhere up above. The walls rose on all sides, revealing what appeared to be a maze.

"She can't do mazes," Zember's tone increased an octave. "She's _deathly afraid _of mazes. The only thing she's more afraid of - "

A screech more blood curdling than those during Capture the Flag at Camp Half-Blood rang out, chilling their bones as Olivia nearly fell to the ground.

"Electrocution," Zach finished, coming closer with Zember.

"PS, I'd run," Agatha chuckled. "Good luck, my little lab rat!"

Olivia didn't think twice, and quickly, though stumbling profusely, she ran throughout the maze.

Zirk began crying on the ground.


End file.
